Chapter Eighty-One: The Saber-Toothed Tiger

It was as if a door to another world had been flung open.

A profound darkness, memories slumbering for millennia, was awakened by a blaze of dazzling, icy lights. Row upon row of bronze machines stood in perfect formation, like silent, fierce beasts crouched in stillness, stretching as far as the eye could see. The deep, reserved luster of the bronze, ancient and desolate as that lost era, seemed to carry the scent of blood and fire, surging forward to meet him.

Tang Tian walked forward in a daze, his mind blank with shock at the sight before him. Instinctively, he advanced, his gaze sweeping hungrily, fervently across the bronze machines.

Each was unique—some shaped like wild beasts, some in human form, though many defied Tang Tian’s ability to describe them. Yet every bronze machine exuded an indescribable aura of solemn menace. The deep bronze hue lent an additional gravity to that faint murderous intent.

“This base was just a place for the troops to rest and regroup during training—its armory is quite small,” Bing said lightly.

Quite small...

This was considered small...

Tang Tian no longer knew how to express his feelings. He could not fathom how powerful the Southern Cross Corps had once been.

Bing glanced around, a touch of wistfulness in his voice. “I remember this base was designed and supervised by Screw. That guy had the strictest standards—if it’s so well preserved, it’s thanks to him. Here, you get to see the Corps’ standard-issue equipment. The stuff made for the real monsters—none of that is here.”

“Real monsters?” Tang Tian asked, curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, experts had their own dedicated machinists to custom-craft suits for them. Ordinary soldiers didn’t rate that privilege,” Bing explained.

“Can these machines still work?” Tang Tian couldn’t help but ask.

“They should still function,” Bing replied, uncertain. “Pick one and give it a try.”

“Alright!” Excitement surged in Tang Tian. He could hardly restrain himself, his gaze darting about until it landed on one of the bronze machines.

It was a classic humanoid design, like an oversized suit of armor, standing a little over two meters tall. Its first impression was one of ferocity—its head was that of a tiger, exuding majesty and solemnity. Every joint was tipped with barbs, especially the fists and fingers; Tang Tian pictured the spikes on the knuckles easily piercing an opponent’s defenses, the sheer force behind the blow overwhelming all resistance. Each fingertip ended in a sharp tiger’s claw, designed to lock in place—a weapon of devastating power. Knees and elbows needed no further mention: a single blow would incapacitate any foe.

“This one!” Tang Tian declared without hesitation.

Bing glanced at it, nodding. “You’ve got a good eye. That’s called the Saber-Toothed Tiger. It’s a classic close-combat battle automaton, perfect for your fighting style.”

“Saber-Toothed Tiger...” Tang Tian instantly took a liking to the name.

“These are known as battle automatons,” Bing added, then gestured toward the Saber-Toothed Tiger. “Its strengths are agility and offense, greatly enhancing fists, palms, finger strikes, grappling, and kicks. The enhancement is between twenty to twenty-five percent, depending on the individual’s skill.”

Tang Tian was deeply moved. A twenty percent boost to martial arts power was a terrifying figure. To improve any technique by that much was extremely difficult.

“But it’s not without weaknesses,” Bing continued. “The Saber-Toothed Tiger favors offense over defense. Its weight means its defenses aren’t outstanding. Also, it strengthens bursts of true energy and excels at short-distance charges, but sustained long-distance pursuits are not its forte.”

As Bing spoke, he opened the chest plate of the automaton. The interior was hollow, with the inner walls covered in complex red lines that stood out sharply against the deep bronze background.

“Doesn’t it look like blood vessels?” Bing asked as he fiddled with the controls.

“It does, a bit,” Tang Tian nodded.

“The starstone goes here,” Bing indicated a recess in the inner wall. “The back plate is designed to be the thickest, so it can withstand strong attacks. But you’d better not use it as a shield. In battle, if the impact is too severe, the recess could be damaged—and then this thing turns into a bronze can.”

Bing spoke with ease, clearly very familiar with the machine.

“Alright, give it a try,” he said.

As soon as Tang Tian heard this, he could no longer wait; he scrambled inside at once.

“Walk a few steps,” Bing said, arms folded, habitually patting his pocket before realizing he was now just a soul general. He felt a pang of regret—if only he had a cigarette, this moment would be perfect...

Tang Tian, brimming with excitement, took a step forward—but misjudged his strength. With a loud clang, he pitched headlong to the ground.

Bing threw his head back, barely able to watch. “Whoa, kid, careful with the strength! It amplifies your power.”

Before he finished speaking, the Saber-Toothed Tiger on the ground suddenly sprang up, smashing hard into the ceiling and leaving a shallow, human-shaped dent. After a moment, it crashed to the floor, throwing up a cloud of dust.

“Kid, you go on and play—I’ll check out the rest of the place. Don’t worry, it’s built to take a beating.”

With that, Bing drifted away.

Tang Tian had never encountered anything so entertaining. At first, it was hard to control—he fell and lost control constantly. But soon, his beast-like reflexes gave him the upper hand.

Crash! Bang! Boom!

He rampaged through the armory in the Saber-Toothed Tiger, occasionally knocking over other automatons, but he paid it no mind. He felt an unrestrained joy, as if his body was bursting with endless strength. Experiencing a battle automaton for himself, the sensation was exhilarating and new. Tang Tian was awestruck by the Southern Cross Corps—whoever invented such machines was a genius! Though they appeared heavy, they required little effort to operate and were surprisingly agile.

The Saber-Toothed Tiger came to a sudden halt, moving as smoothly as flowing water. Tang Tian took a deep breath and punched out with all his might, his true energy surging forth.

Avalanche!

Crack!

The air at the point of impact shattered and vanished, sucked in by the force of his fist and collapsing with a deafening boom.

So powerful!

Tang Tian was stunned by the force of that punch. He knew the strength of Avalanche all too well, but never expected that with the Saber-Toothed Tiger, its power would be so greatly magnified. Normally, the technique could shatter air, but not obliterate it. Now, with the enhancement, its power had increased by twenty percent and undergone a qualitative change.

Blood burned in Tang Tian’s veins. He began unleashing all his martial techniques with abandon.

Every move became ferocious, their force surging to new heights.

He felt like a raging war machine, unstoppable and invincible!

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Bing gazed at the badge before him.

It was an oversized emblem; every Corps base had one, bearing the Corps’ insignia and serving as the symbol of the Southern Cross. But few knew there was more to the badge—no, to be precise, only four people in the entire Corps knew its secret.

Bing placed his hand on the badge.

It glowed with a dim, eerie light, the bronze cross shining like a constellation.

“Commander, don’t you dare deceive me...” Bing muttered.

Bronze light suddenly surged into his body. The badge on the wall quickly faded to darkness.

Bing’s body shuddered. On his forehead, the bronze Southern Cross appeared, and his once translucent form grew more solid.

On his blank, featureless face, eyes, nose, mouth, and eyebrows began to appear.

After a moment, all the changes ceased.

Bing opened his eyes. The badge before him abruptly became a mirror, showing his reflection. He stared in shock, then erupted in furious outrage: “Commander! You bastard! Were you playing poker even when you made this badge...?”

In the mirror, his eyes could move, his mouth moved, his nose and eyebrows too—but they all looked as if they’d been drawn on.

A blank white face, with features sketched like a caricature—a living, breathing poker face...

Bing raged at the badge for a long time before finally quieting, staring at it in a daze and muttering, “You bastards, having a grand time playing poker in hell, and leaving me alone in the mortal world—was it because I never played with you?”

His vision blurred with tears.

He wiped his eyes, looked at the badge, and grumbled, “Poker smudged by water—no wonder it looks ugly. Really ruins my image as an iron-blooded instructor.”

He steadied himself and, after a long pause, spoke slowly: “Commander, besides training recruits, I know nothing else. But I think that since you kicked me back here, it must be because you were unwilling! You couldn’t accept such a defeat! You couldn’t bear to be erased like that! Isn’t that so? You weren’t willing, were you?”

“Commander, you didn’t come. Axin, you, the sly and devious one who never loses at cards, you didn’t come. Screw, the mightiest machinist, you didn’t come either.” Bing looked at his hand. “You sent back the most useless one—why, Commander?”

“All I know is how to train. Nothing else.” Bing sat down, leaning against the badge-hung wall, talking to himself. “You brilliant ones, all shirking your duties. So unwilling, yet you left me alone. How awkward you must feel. Still, that Tang Tian’s a good seedling—our era’s things may be outdated, but that’s a problem for another day...”

He sat there, rambling on as if chatting with old friends.

Above, the light cast the bronze badge’s shadow long across the wall, stretching beside Bing as he sat—like the comrades of days gone by.